Back to Part 33
We Are All Love This Game That We’ve Found
The next few days were a blur, or more like a haze. Oliver remembered waking up, remembered that he did… things, but couldn’t recall them if he wanted to. Except, there was one thing.
The team was mostly trying to enjoy themselves, out at brunch and running around the city, calling friends on older teams, though from what Oliver could tell, most of them weren’t answering. Still, the dorm was almost always empty day to day. Oliver did his best to stay occupied, even considering going to work out at the stadium, but he just couldn’t find the point. Why work out when the world felt like it was ending in a few days?
So everyday he woke up, and did something, things he couldn’t remember, things that must have been keeping him alive, but not important enough to take note of.
Apparently, Spencer had been going through the same thing, sitting in a general haze in the common area of the dorm. Oliver sat down across from them, and for a moment, they just sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space. Finally, Spencer looked Oliver over, their eyes tired, weary, and they said, “I know this sounds weird, because I think we’re going to die in a few days, but do you want to go look for records with me?”
Oliver smiled. “Yeah, sure.”
The two of them wandered around the city, hitting all of the record stores Spencer had found. They spoke extensively of their music collection, making a mental list of albums they wanted to show to Oliver. And when the sun started to set, they wandered back to the dorm, got take-out, and sat in Oliver’s room, listening to music and talking about their worlds.
That morning, Oliver woke to the sun creeping in his room from between the buildings outside the dorm, a bright gold sliver on the wall. He dozed in the warmth of his bed for a moment, until the light was too bright. Oliver squinted against the sun, and when he shifted, the arm around his chest pulled him closer.
Ah ha ha, right. That.
Spencer had snuggled up behind him during the night, arm around him, their muzzle resting on his neck. Oliver closed his eyes, snuggling in a little more. They had just slept, just shared a bed, because the other option was to be alone, and neither one of them wanted that. They had stayed up talking, at first shyly holding hands, and then moving on to careful snuggling. Finally, when Oliver couldn’t hold his eyes open anymore, flopping over onto his bed, Spencer got up, turned off the lights, and snuggled up behind him.
Oliver had things to do that day, things he wanted to make sure happened, but for that moment, he was okay just staying there, no need to rush. He put his hand over Spencer’s and dozed a little longer.
Oliver was greeted at the apartment door by a long rambling stream of French, punctuated by its occupant throwing the door open. Amylee made it two steps out before her eyes widened in recognition. She threw her arms around Oliver.
“Oliver! Hello!” She squeezed, and then pulled him into her apartment. “Sorry about the swearing. It helps keep people away.”
“You were swearing?” Oliver asked.
Amylee just smiled. “Come in, come in! It’s good to see you! Look at you, mister MVP.”
Oliver blushed. “Yeah… that’s, uh… ha ha….”
Amylee led him to her kitchen and opened the fridge. “Would you like something? I have Bud Light, of course, and some Vess, and some wine, or sparkling water, or-“
“Vess is fine,” Oliver said. He set the bag he carried with him down on her kitchen table. and took his coat off, looking around the apartment. “You have so much!”
Amylee swooped in to take his coat, and hung it in the closet by the door. She looked back, and for the first time Oliver could think of, Amylee looked embarrassed. “I had people over.”
“Thunderbirds people?”
Amylee nodded. “I am trying… They have been kind to me, the Thunderbirds. It’s only right that I try too.” Amylee craned her neck to look at the bag that Oliver had brought with him, quickly asking, “What did you bring?”
“Oh, I found this place called Cafe du Mode.”
“Fashion Cafe?” She asked. She opened the bag and took out the boxes. “Oh, these smell delicious.”
“It’s a French cafe. I thought you might like some French cafe food.” Oliver looked at it, and for a brief moment grew quieter. “If it’s okay, I mean.”
Amylee opened the boxes up. One had a baguette sandwich, the other a croque monsieur, both with fries. She looked up, amazed. “Yes, this looks lovely, thank you, Oliver.” She looked over the two boxes. “May I choose?” Oliver motioned for her to go ahead, and opened his cola. Amylee took the croque monsieur and sat down at the table. Oliver followed.
“How are you, Oliver?” Amylee asked. She didn’t hesitate tearing into her sandwich.
“Uh,” Oliver said. “Bad? I think I’m bad…”
Amylee stopped mid-bite. “Is it getting rough? Crasher said things were happening.”
“I think,” Oliver said slowly, “if we don’t win the finals, we’re going to die.”
Amylee’s ears dropped. She reached across the table and took his hand. “It is hard to not feel that way. But it is workable, no?”
“Crasher says we’re going to fight, but I don’t know what that means. They’re stronger than us.”
“Not all of us all together,” Amylee said. ”All of us-“ She caught the look on Oliver’s face, and considered her words. Maybe not today, maybe this wasn’t the best line of conversation. “Crasher will figure it out. They are clever.”
Oliver nodded. He looked down at his sandwich. “I hope so,” he said quietly.
Amylee continued to eat. “What have you been up to? I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Playoffs have been a lot. How is my replacement? The team misses them.”
Oliver’s ears perked, blushing. “Oh! Uh… they’re good. We’ve… we’ve been hanging out…”
Amylee froze, her eyes darting over his face. And then she laughed suddenly. “Oliver! Have you found a… oh, what do you call them? A date friend?”
“I don’t know?” Oliver said. “I think so?”
“You are hesitating,” Amylee said sympathetically. “Why?”
“I’m… I dunno, broken? I don’t find people attractive, and I don’t want to sleep with people, and I’m not sure if I even want to kiss.” He looked away, his ears dropping on his head. He could feel Amylee watching, her ears flicking in thought.
After a moment, she said, “But you are spending time with them? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Oliver pulled his jaw tight.
“Oliver, what is wrong?”
“I truly believe that we have seven games left. Seven games at most. And then I don’t know what. I don’t know what will happen.”
Amylee leaned forward. “And you believe you should be alone for it, for an end of this?”
Oliver started to speak, and hesitated.
“You’re afraid.”
“No! I just…” His brain caught up with him, and he sat back in his chair, slumping, staring into the middle distance. “I don’t know if what I want is enough for them.”
“Maybe you should talk to them,” Amylee said. “Your feelings are important too. They are not the only one in this relationship.” She dipped a fry in the little cup of mayonnaise that came with the sandwich. “But have you been enjoying yourself?”
“We’ve spent the last few days just talking and wandering around, and at night we listened to music and held hands and then we fell asleep together. And it feels so, so nice.” He covered his face with his hands.
Amylee lit up again. “Oliver Trashcat! You are allowed to be happy! You deserve this! And it sounds like what you have is sweet. And if they walk away from you because you are not enough, I will send Mariya after them.”
“Ah! Ha, thank you, Amy…” Oliver said, still covering his face. “It feels weird, like this is the wrong time for it.”
“I disagree. Sapients like us, we are put here to love. The Regents? They do not know love, and they never will.” She considered her words. “If now is not the right time for love, when we are facing what could be the end, when else would it be time for love?”
Oliver nodded. “I’m being silly.”
“You are being very silly,” Amylee said. “But we are all very silly. That is why I love all of you.” She looked down at their lunches, her whiskers twitching. “Let’s finish our lunches, I want to show you the town. There’s a nice coffee shop down by the river that I love.”
Oliver laughed. They both ate, talking about games, and the discoveries they have made in their new adopted city. And when they were done they wandered the streets of an Alton they both never knew, but were learning about together.
Management had sent very specific instructions: nine pizzas, 15 bags of chips, and a bucket of movie theater nacho cheese. Crasher complied, and they enlisted Oliver and Elliot to help them take it all in.
The Front Office was down a long corridor connecting the arena to a building next door. They walked for what seemed like a mile before they realized they were sloping slightly downward. They must have been hundreds of feet below ground. Crasher considered turning back, but the text had been seared into their brain: “you want this to be over?”
Finally, they were face to face with, of all things, a normal office front: A wooden door that was occupied mostly with glass. There were floor to ceiling glass panels on either side, and one side said, in big block letters: “MANAGEMENT.” Underneath, in much smaller letters: “Please ring bell.”
Crasher pushed the bell on the door frame, and waited patiently. A moment later, an office worker in a poorly fitting suit opened the door. “Yeah?” He had to have been a teenager, maybe early 20s at the most. His hair was disheveled, his tie loose, and looked like he needed a week-long nap.
“Management has requested me,” Crasher said. “Oh, I’m Crasher Katz and these are my teammates. They’re helping.”
“Uh, yeah, okay,” The kid said. “I guess just wait there,” he pointed to some chairs in a corner. “I’ll go see if it’s — they’re — ready.” He slouched down the hall and knocked on a door. For a moment, he disappeared into the room, and came out, again. He waved them over. “You can go in.”
As soon as the three of them had made it in, the kid closed the door, and it sounded like he ran down the hall to somewhere else.
The room was dark, only illuminated by a few video screens. Crasher could make out various fields where they had played: the Faraday Cage at the Weathermancers, the military plainness of The Hangar, even the verdant field of Civic Center. There were other screens that showed nothing, but had been labeled: Kansas City, Tokyo, Halifax, Hades. Management must always be watching. Even Hell, Crasher supposed.
The second thing Crasher noticed was the smell. Acrid, salty, like rotten fish. They looked around, and something in the shadows moved. No, Crasher thought. The entire shadows moved. They stepped backwards, almost tripping over their feet.
“hey. just put all that on the table.”
The voice hurt Crasher’s head, they felt it in their chest. They put the pizzas down on the table, and Oliver and Elliot followed.
The figure leaned forward, and Crasher came eye to giant eye with its source. Sitting in a chair, entirely unlike any human being, was a giant squid. It reached out with a tentacle and flipped a pizza box open, and grabbed a slice of pizza with surprising dexterity.
“thin crust. good choice.” It tucked the pizza somewhere up underneath itself. Crasher vaguely remembered something about squids having beaks. They didn’t really need to find out. “cheesy.”
“You said you wanted to talk,” Crasher ventured. “You said you could stop this.”
“regents.” The squid said.
“Yes,” Crasher said. “Can you stop them?”
Its eye swiveled to Elliot. “witch. crafty.” It squinted, almost as if it was smiling. “did you like my spells?”
“I knew it,” Elliot said. “The fan polls. They are spells.”
“Wait, you’re doing this to us?” Crasher asked, narrowing their eyes.
“you’re alive to complain, aren’t you?”
“Hal isn’t.”
“eight of them.” The squid fell silent. “they asked first. they checked with me. to see if it would work.”
Crasher stared, leaning forward, ready to strike, until the realization hit them. Their face fell into surprise, and then sadness. They looked back at Oliver and Elliot, and then back at Management.
“They asked about…” Crasher started.
“They sacrificed themselves,” Elliot said, just above a whisper.
“couldn’t win without you, witch”
“No no no no,” Elliot said, almost pleading. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“it was the only way.”
Oliver hugged Elliot, and she leaned against him, shaking, holding back a sob.
“oh hey, trashcat.”
“Uh…” Oliver said, backing away a little. “Hello.”
“out.” And Management rumbled again.
“What… what does it mean?”
“the fans don’t want you. so the regents don’t want you. they do not see you anymore.”
”Okay,” Oliver nodded. “I have conflicting feelings about that.”
“That sounds useful,” Crasher said. “Wait, let’s go back to the polls. Why are you doing this?”
“bad bosses. never refund my expenses.”
“I can dig some internal sabotage,” Crasher said. “Can we make our own poll?”
“once. if they find out you’re here, it all goes away.”
“So we get one chance. What would the question even be?”
“that will cost you more pizzas. hungry.”
“Buddy,” Crasher said, “if you help us destroy the Regents, we’ll get you all the pizzas you could ever want.”
The squid opened another pizza. It emptied the bag of chips onto the pizza, and peeled the nacho cheese open. It rolled the pizza up like a burrito and dipped it in the nacho cheese.
Elliot irked. “I hate everything about this,” she said.
“the regents will take what they can. greedy. but there will be remnants.”
“So we wait to see who’s left,” Crasher said.
The squid worked its pizza roll down. “yeah, i don’t know. probably.” It grabbed another pizza. “better figure out something.” It reached out to the door and opened it. “next time bring some cake too.”
Crasher left as quickly as they could, Elliot and Oliver in tow.
“For once, I want to feel like someone isn’t fucking with my life,” Crasher said.
“Don’t get into magic,” Elliot said. “You’ll learn just how little control you have in your life.”
“Yeah, well, this is my surprised face,” Crasher said.
The kid that let them in waited by the door, staring at the wall. When Crasher approached, he jumped up. “Uh. Is everything…?”
“Fine, kiddo,” Crasher said. “No offense, but I hope I never see you again.”
“Uh,” the kid said. But the players had walked out the door.
The door down the hall opened again. “hey.”
The kid started forward. “Hey?”
“i got you pepperoni.”
“Oh, nice,” the kid said, and went to go grab his lunch.
-g
Back to Part 33